Awakening
by Haley Brimley
Summary: Inspired by the TV movie "Run The Wild Fields". Contains spanking and incestuous sensuality. You have been warned!


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Run the Wild Fields  
_– Awakening –  
_(Ff sp, x, incest – spanking references – RATED R)

"Come on, out of the tub, it's my turn."

Ruby shook her head: "No deal. Wait."

"Bull..." Pug murmured.

"Language, little girl. Take it easy or I'll stripe you good."

"At least you'll be out of the tub and I can get in."

"In cold water, you're gonna need it on your warm butt."

Pug sighed but shut up. The memory of a 'warm butt', of the flaming cheeks after a spanking from her mother was enough to have her silent and patiently waiting for her turn. Sitting on a chair near the tub, Pug kept looking at her mother Ruby Miller, who had been bathing for the last forty-five minutes, never showing the slightest sign of hurry. 'No-one takes so long to bathe!', Pug had said. 'And no-one wants to bathe twice in a night like you do', Ruby had replied.

But Pug knew she was weird. She was probably the one eleven-year-old in the whole North Carolina who cared so much about her own physical hygiene. She took one or even two baths every other day, in and out of the bathtub. Her mum had told her not to say in school that she did "in-and-out"... Pug wondered why.

"Is it interesting?" the girl asked her mother, pointing at the poetry book the woman had.

"It's not interesting, Pug. It's beautiful."

"Yeah whatever. You like it or not?"

"Yes, I do like it," said Ruby, now a bit annoyed by the little girl's endless chatter. She could threaten her with a spanking all she wanted, and she did, but Pug would never ever shut that running mouth of hers. She was really a brat. And a sweetheart.

Suddenly Ruby slammed the book close and rose. "You won, I'm outta here."

"Finally! Was about time!..." the child raised her eyebrows, but her mother's venomous side look convinced her to control herself. "Umm I meant... thanks mum!"

"Aha," Ruby mumbled. She pointed at the robe Pug was wearing, and the girl took it off and offered it to her. The two Millers, mother and daughter, crossed on the bathtub ledge, one going out dripping water, the other going in, still humid from her previous bath.

SMACK! Ruby did not lose such a golden chance to whack her daughter's full, round bottom. Pug whined and rubbed her buttocks with both hands.

"Ouch! Why??"

"Need I a reason?"

"How _funny_."

She sat down in the tub, reclined her head and closed her eyes, enjoying the still-warm water, its touch and feel on her naked body while Ruby put on the robe and walked to the window. The summer night's warm breeze moved her still soaked hair and her wet face. There was one reason why, one and only, the same reason why Ruby had chosen to impart corporal discipline on Pug in the first place. She loved her daughter.

Not like a mother loves a daughter. She *loved* her daughter. Madly. Inexplicably. In a forbidden way. It was a recent thing, a couple of years at most, but it seemed like forever sometimes. To hold her in her arms gave her a sense of infinite tenderness, it filled her completely; to hug and smother her without a reason in the world was beautiful, yes... but she could not touch her, not the way she would want, not where she would want. It hurt Ruby to have to spank her, but at least she could strip her, see her without her underwear on, rub her bottom profusely in-between the smacks. She always tried to spank her hard enough to give her the impression she meant business, but not too hard, not to really hurt: the last thing she wanted was to be mean to her sweetheart.

Pug was one beautiful child, not too tall, not too skinny, a perfect average. Just perfect. Her skin tone was light, but bronzed by the summer's hot Sun, her complexion was generally light, her legs straight and shapely, her bottom soft and round, her eyes of a shining brown, like her morbid hair, a smile which could hypnotise, her hot and perfumed breath (when she remembered to wash her teeth). A jewel, and it had been her, Ruby, to forge it and to bear it in her life.

Three and a half years ago -- "God, Ruby, it's forty months already!" -- her husband Frank Miller had left for a faraway war in Good Ol' Europe, a war no one cared a smidge about. It was the dawn of 1942, and in July 1945 the Millers still had had no news from him, ever. Ruby and Pug feared him wounded, or worse, but if he was wounded he would have probably been sent back home, and if he was... dead... a telegram from the government. No telegram had ever come. And every day, walking in front of the telegrapher's office in town while going to the groceries store, a mighty terror annihilated her.

Ruby could hardly live anymore.

And then that feeling came, so powerful, so breathtaking and so irreparably shameful; a big, strong feeling that had assaulted her heart in one night warmer than the others. The view of Pug, who was laying on her tummy on the living room floor with only her robe on and who was suddenly scared by the first thunder of an incoming storm, and who had suddenly crawled back- wards, involuntarily letting the sponge robe's tails raise, and revealing for one brief instant the folds of flesh of her virginity to her mother, watching in awe, unable to look away. That night, Ruby Miller had fought not to think about it, and when that turned out to be impossible, she had fought not to touch herself, and she had not succeeded. She had cried bitter tears as she was climaxing to the thought of a nine-year-old. Her daughter.

But as the rush of blood and the flow of her emotions ceased, fear and shame kicked in, and Ruby had found herself thinking of Frank, of how she wanted him back for good. She had cried all night, and the following day she had awakened with an even stronger desire to "see" Pug, a desire which would be never extinguished.

"Momma!"

The scream took her back to reality. Ruby turned around and ran to the bathtub, her feet unsteady on the slippery floor. "Honey what's up?!"...

... but she understood as soon as she saw the water in tub, the water which was now turning red, a small hollow, ethereal cloud of blood. She tried to reason, to understand *what* her child might have cut herself with in the one minute she was looking the other way, when she suddenly grasped it had not been a cut at all.

Ruby relaxed some, wiping the wet hair sticking to her face and smiling a bit at Pug. The child was now, if possible, more confused than ever, and she stared back at her mother with a horrified look.

"You're laughing??" she yelled. "Mom it hurts!" And she took her hands between her thighs and pushed, pushed hard, as though she wanted to repel the blood inside, the power of denial smashing unto her with tremendous force. At her age, Ruby had had more or less the same reaction, and her mother had been there for her; now it was her turn, just as expected. But as she saw, once again, Pug's beautifully shaped sex, she could not help but feel funny.

"It's alright, Opal", she said, calling Pug with her real name. "Everything's okay, it's..."

"It's not fucking okay!"

A curse... for a moment, Pug was afraid her mother would take her out of the tub and really give it to her good, but it did not happen.

"Easy, easy, calm down..."

It must have been something *really* serious if her mother had heard her swearing and had not even scolded her for it. Ruby placed her hands on Pug's bare shoulders, to keep her still while she looked in her eyes and spoke:

"It's normal, it happens to me as well. If you calm down, I'll tell you everything."

This seemed to relax Pug once and for all. The child breathed hard and grimaced some more, then nodded with a slow movement of her head. As her mother took her out of the bathtub and dried her affectionately, Pug understood that many things were probably not as she had been told they were...

* * *

"That was all crap..." Pug murmured, a bit scared of that half-swearing. But she realised that that was one of those special moments, a frame when the everyday rules seemed to step aside for a second while two people shared an intimate and tantalising experience.

Sitting on the two-poster bed, her back against the wall, -- "Where are you, Frank?" -- Ruby kept Pug sitting on her lap. The woman smiled and hugged her daughter.

"What was crap?"

"Well, to lie me from the start, I mean... what's with the birds, the bees and all that...? This does this, so what?" she said, mimicking the act of lovemaking, her left thumb and index forming a circle and her right index finger sliding in and out of it.

"Pug, don't be gross," said Ruby, patting the girl's thigh near her robe-covered bottom as if warning her. "You're right anyway, I should've told you from the start."

"Yeah well, I'm always right."

"... hey kiddo, when the bough breaks, I whip you with it, got it?" she said half-jokingly, while tickling her belly. Pug giggled some, much to her mother's satisfaction.

"Yes momma".

"C'm'here, lovey..."

Pug turned around and hugged her. Ruby kept her close, tight in her arms, rubbing her back in slow circles, feeling her wavy brown hair still a bit humid despite the hot summer night breeze.

"Hug me tight," said the little one.

"I am..."

"Tighter."

And Ruby clang on to her daughter, almost smothering her with a hug which bore all of her love, but also her fear, her frustration, her remorse. For a moment Ruby feared she was hugging too tight, but Pug did not move and did not whine about it. She felt the sweet flesh of her daughter's thighs, naked under the robe, tightening against her night gown. She smelt the intoxicating aroma of Pug's freshly-clean neck and shoulders, and her gaze fell through the robe, past the neck and down the back, following the spine, right to the start of the...

"I love you so much mom."

"Oh so do I sweetheart... you have no idea..."

"Can I sleep here, tonight?"

"Sure thing. Mom will be here, don't you worry."

With that, Pug started crying. Ruby felt her heart skip a beat and fought hard not to cry herself. She hugged her, kept her tight in her embrace, comforted her for a long time, rocking with her, feeling her breath slowly easing down, calming, relaxing; the child's hiccups became long and rhythmic breaths, and within some more time she fell asleep.

Ruby waited in that position a bit longer, then she moved and deposited Pug on the left side of the bed, Frank's side. Pug had a very light sleep at first, even though she could sleep very soundly in the middle of the night, so soundly that not even the explosion of that faraway war would wake her... Ruby shook her head and blamed herself for such a silly, macabre comparison.

The air was very hot, and probably that night would remain above 90 degrees, just as the others had in that period. So Ruby untied the sponge belt tying the child's robe, and opened it. She lay Pug with her head on the pillow and pulled part of the robe from under her; then she turned her around and took the rest, gathering the cloth in her hands. As she did so, she could not help herself, she just *had* to look at her daughter's now nude body. The soft skin, where the last of humidity from the bath melt with the first sweat of the night... the sweet curve of her bottom, a perfect semi-circle from the top of her thighs to the base of her back... the other curve, maybe even more fascinating, of her back up to the base of her neck, where the shoulders softly pushed out from underneath the skin, raising two beautiful, sensuous mounds of flesh.

Ruby shook with excitement and fright alike. She dared to outstretch a hand and caressed Pug's shoulders. With two fingers she followed the back spine, touching every one of the vertebrae as if going down a ladder, loving the soft/hard contrast the bone made with the flesh. She descended lower and lower. And lower... and amazed herself when her hand, with a will of her own, rose and retired the second before reaching its most wanted treasure.

She stepped back, still staring Pug's sweetest buttocks. At the door, she turned away and ran down the hallway, tears pouring down her face.

* * *

Ruby woke up when the first sun rays crept in through the open window.

She was on the rocking chair. Not in her bed. What was...? She remembered. She did not want to wake up Pug, at least, that was the official reason; she did not want to see her, touch her not even by accident, be close to her. She just could not.

Slowly, slowly, she opened her eyes, and only then she realised the little weight pressing down on her legs, that soft contact of warm skin on her naked thighs. The tender child she called a daughter was sitting on her, wearing nothing, bare as the day she was born -- "I was on this chair when she was born... God give me the strength to get up..." -- Pug hadn't noticed her mother waking up; she was reading her book, the one she brought everywhere she went.

Pug giggled some, probably to a lousy joke on the page she was reading. With her little foot she pushed on the floor, sending them on a slow, rhythmic rocking movement. Ruby let herself be carried with that movement, and opened her eyes more to the invading daylight. She saw her own legs, and Pug sitting on them, the crease of her derriere right in the middle. The rocking scared her and excited her at the same time, sending unspeakable thrills everywhere in her body.

Only then Ruby realised that her right hand was near Pug's right thigh. She let it move closer, only an inch... then took her back... and Pug, still immersed in her silly reading, did not notice. Ruby's hand moved again. She touched the child's skin, soft and incredibly warmed by the sun. Pug did not start and did not say a thing, she just kept on reading and giggling... either she was not noticing, or she was not commenting.

__

("Get me out of here...")

But again Ruby moved her hand, which now seemed to be guided by an invisible force. The same force that at night had kept her from touching her, now forced her to do so, to move upwards and left-bound, tracing soft trails on Pug's side and on her back, slightly bent forward. The child, now fully aware, arched it some at her mother's soft caress, and a shiver was sent through her body when Ruby touched a most sensitive spot, the place where the back fades into the bottom, right in the centre, at the end of the spine.

And the shiver grew, and multiplied, and was transmitted throughout her body, and from there to her mother's, like pure electricity being conducted. Ruby shook and fought back a tear, while her other hand did the same movements, but on the other side of Pug's body, finally ending up on the child's belly. And it slid between the belly and the book Pug was holding, reaching down... Ruby wanted to go back, but her movement was brusque, and the hand touched, almost collided for one brief instant against something infinitely warm and sweet.

Pug arched her back even more, and closed her eyes. Her hands lost their grip on the book, which balanced on her thighs and then slowly slid down, until it fell on the floor. Ruby's fingers were still there. They did not move, they did not rub... they just were, making contact on the soft flesh. Pug was motionless, but she breathed hard. Perhaps she was crying, Ruby could not see her face. And it was a good thing that she didn't: had she seen her airy, dreaming expression, her eyes almost closed, her mouth hanging half-open as if searching for air, or water, or maybe just help... had she seen her nostrils contracting and her hair moved by the soft, barely perceptible breeze which gave small goose-bumps... Ruby would faint.

But she did not look, she did not faint. Still, her fingers suddenly took life, still guided by that unspeakable will, and started moving along the soft, unveiled lips of Pug's sex. Ruby caressed her bare pudenda, ever so slowly, as to not frighten her (and herself), as to not rush things. She savoured the contact, so ethereal but so palpable, so close, so tremendously warm, so suffocating. A lump formed in her throat, her stomach contracted in a tight grip... and still there was no sign of holding back from Pug, no fear, just total, utter confidence.

A rebel finger rubbed more extensively than the others, and Ruby felt the forbidden touch, the soft flesh where she could dig into, the tissue feeling like sponge under the fingertips, the sweet rotundity. The warmth.

She stopped fighting it. She did not forbid her other hand to descend down Pug's back and to reach her bottom, and to rub it profusely, and to go lower and lower again, detaching from the child's body and feeling her own. Ruby repeated the same movements, applied the same gestures to her own sex and to Pug's, in one synchronised, lovely act.

Small moans escaped her mouth as she sat up and with her forehead touched her daughter's soft and scented hair agitated by the breeze. She planted small kisses on her little ears and the back of her neck, and by getting this close she could hear Pug's evanescent moans, so tiny, so hushed, almost ethereal. She rocked both bodies closer and closer, continuing the massage.

Ruby hoped, prayed that Pug wouldn't rise and try to escape... and if ever she had had a doubt about God, it vanished when the child lowered a hand between her own legs and joined it to her mother's. Ruby almost cried in disbelief when the little girl's index finger followed hers beyond the big lips, and past the tiny folds of flesh, and inside, but not too deep, the last thing she wanted was to hurt Pug. There was to be no more pain for her, only love.

The heat was violent, almost unbearable, so strong that the child thought she was ablaze with fever. In her blissful ignorance, in the limited consciousness she had in that summer morning, she imagined that her "inside" was so warm because the sunbeams could penetrate so deep into her body... had she known about such a sweet, infantile thought, Ruby would have melted.

Their fingers still entered Pug's body, deep down until Ruby's second knock disappeared beyond the folds of flesh, all the while her thumb finger searched for, found and expertly teased Pug's most sensitive spot, the little hood of hardened flesh right above the outer lips. Mother and child increased the tempo, going faster now, like the rocking chair did, like the world did... like the room was starting to spin around Pug in an unstoppable whirling motion. She felt dizzy and about to pass out, but then she felt "something" which was pulling back on her whole body, as if she was shrinking; her pelvis and belly contracted in a weird way, and her eyes rolled back and inside her skull... and it happened, a shiver that had nothing to do with those she had ever felt. She felt like a little branch swept away by a thunderous blizzard, a non-stopping flow of amazing power which was unleashing unfelt and marvellous feelings inside and outside her. Deep, carnal, profound feelings, intimate feelings that Pug feared, but that she also loved immensely. She longed to cry and run away, and she wanted to stay, she longed for it to continue, to go all the way. And she knew the same thing was happening to her mother, right there behind her, when she felt her body shake and her flesh tremble against hers. This calmed her down and made her feel warm and reassured: mummy was with her. She had created that inside of her, her baby, the little girl she called 'daughter'.

It was a creation of love.

It went to her head like she hadn't expected it to. Pug thought it would start and end between her legs, in that spot that - her mother had explained - is called "vagina"... but she felt her head heavy and thumping, and felt the impulse to scream. She did not repress it.

Pug came with a scream which bore all of her love and all of her fright, while the loving fingers were withdrawn from her slippery sex, and a humidity she had never known before invaded her privates.

With one simple gesture, sitting up more comfortably, Ruby pulled her own night-gown off, letting it fall on the wooden floor. Breathing hard and exhausted, Pug collapsed back on her mother's nude body, and Ruby could finally see her face. She couldn't restrain herself from crying. Tears flowed down her face and down Pug's, while mother and daughter cuddled and rocked each other on the rocking chair, their bodies intertwined, like part of one another, like they should have always been and now, finally, were again.

They cried and held on to each other, savouring the passion and the marvel of that, and the heat, the warmth, the burning fire, and the infinite, never-ending sweetness of their act. A master and a pupil, perhaps, but it was a time to learn for both of them.

In the distance, a rooster emitted his high-pitched shriek, announcing the day's start, but Ruby and Opal Miller fell asleep again, kissed by the sun, until the next awakening.

THE END


End file.
